


The Penrose Triangle

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 01:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	1. Chapter 1

The meaning of the word soulmate had apparently changed a lot over the years. At least, that’s what Spencer Reid had learned from his extensive studies. He was always an interested child. Interested in everything from why The Doctor was named so (still never stated, much to his dismay) to the possibility of genetic mutations leading to superpowers (apparently not possible, so there went his dream of becoming the next Professor X) to was there a God (in Spencer’s mind, there were either a ton of them, or none at all – it didn’t matter, he just wanted to have his ashes put into one of those biodegradable urns so he could grow into a tree). Knowledge was his food, and he sought it out like his next breath, so when he was young and saw the people around him walking about with words on their arms, he wanted to know what it all meant. 

“Those are the first words their soulmate spoke to them, or will speak to them,” his mother had said. That’s was how it worked. Once your soulmate was in “your path” a set of words appeared on your skin – and those were the words they’d speak to you. Some people had such a banal and everyday word that you actually couldn’t tell who your soulmate was, others had spoilers from what would be their favorite book or television show (WHAT DO YOU MEAN SNAPE KILLED DUMBLEDORE?!) and others would have such a distinct set of words strung together that they’d know their soulmate the second they heard the words leave their lips.

The word soulmate had changed so much over the course of history. Spencer had learned that in Plato’s Symposium, written in 885-830 BCE, Aristophanes told Socrates that human beings used to have four arms, four legs and two faces, and that they were happy and complete. Though Spencer knew that wasn’t scientifically possible, he enjoyed the history of the word just the same. Apparently Zeus had been jealous of how content humans had been, so he split them in two with his thunderbolt and doomed humanity to searching for their “other half.” The idea had been with humanity ever since.

“The word was actually first recorded in a letter written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge,” Diana had told him. “At that point, the word referred to a lover, but that’s not necessarily the case anymore.” She smiled, looking at the word on her own arm.

Over the decades since the word was first recorded, soulmate became a word that tended to have as many different meanings as there were snowflakes in a storm. That is to say, everyone that used it defined the word differently, and in doing so the words that appeared on one’s arm didn’t necessarily belong to a future romantic partner.

The word soulmate was used by most, but for those that needed to differentiate between a romantic or sexual relationship, and everything else, the idea of a soul companion came into being. But the words on one’s arm referred could refer to either. The more Spencer thought about, the more he believed that this was evolution’s way of ensuring that everyone ended up with words to look forward to, because so many that hadn’t had that experience became isolated and depressed. Basically, it was science’s way of ensuring human happiness. 

As a child, Spencer wasn’t a people person, but when it came to those mysterious words – the words that could make some people ecstatic and others cry – he paid attention to others. Some people had multiple sets of words over a lifetime. Others never got them at all (though that was rare nowadays). Some ended up realizing that the words belonged to a best friend, who they could never imagine living without and others only had one set of words their entire life. Further still, some people could have multiple sets of words at once, and others, like his mother, had only one word.

Bubble.

Diana Reid’s arm read “bubble.”

When her son was young, he’d asked her how his father (who’d since walked out of their lives) said the word bubble to her. He’d been under the impression before his mother told him so, that those words responded to people who were in love with each other. “That wasn’t your father’s first word to me. It was yours.”

“Mine?” The young Spencer had asked.

“Yes, my sweet boy,” she’d said, bending down to kiss his forehead. “Although you said mama and dada first, the first time you spoke to me, you pointed to a bubble, looked at me, and said bubble. That’s when I learned that soulmate or soul companion didn’t just refer to people who were in love with each other but to people that loved each other too. To the ends of the earth.”

“So I’m your soul companion, mommy?” The little boy was so inquisitive it warmed her heart. There was no other being on this planet she’d give the world for – if that wasn’t the meaning of soul companion or soulmate, then what was?

Diana Reid took her son into her arms. She and his father had been having issues lately, but he gave her Spencer, and for that, she would be eternally grateful. “Yes you are, Spencer. The only one in the world I would give my life for.”

—-

Hello, Dr. Reid? I’ve taken a look at your scans and I think I’ve come up with a treatment that can finally alleviate your pain. 

Those were the words. At the age of 25 they showed up on his arm – no indication of when they’d be spoken, no indication of who would speak them – just the fairly long “opening lines” of the person who would play opposite his lead.

Being who he was, the instant they’d shown up on his arm, he’d tried to dissect them, which only sent him further into a panic. Pain? He didn’t like pain. He wasn’t good with pain. Was he going to be dying? Why was he going to be in pain? After perseverating over the words for weeks on end, he allowed the concern to fade into the back of his mind, though it was always there lurking.

Though of course his teammates didn’t fail to point out the grim nature of his words when they’d popped up on his arm – that was after the shock of finding out Spencer had “received” his words from the universe. Spencer had been surprised himself, wondering if he’d ever have that kind of soulmate. He already felt like he had several; he worked with them.

He loved them, but dammit if they weren’t trying as all hell. “Isn’t it driving you bonkers not to know what the pain is referring to?” Garcia kept asking.

Morgan agreed, slapping him on the shoulder. “It would eat me alive inside.”

“Me too.”

“Me too.

“Yea, definitely.”

“Of course it drives me insane!” he’d ended up screaming. “I have to deal with the fact that I’m going to be in pain and I don’t know why! Do you know how hard it is for me to not know why? For anything? For everything?” Spencer rarely yelled, whether it be in anger or otherwise, so when he did, it took those around him by surprise.

After a few moments of silence, Rossi had to go and open his mouth. “You? Dr. Spencer Reid? You don’t feel comfortable not knowing everything? Noooooo…”

Then, three years later, came the migraines. The agonizing splitting of his head that he couldn’t control and couldn’t correct no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t get them often at first, but the became more frequent and greater in intensity as the months wore on: it was to the point that he’d wear sunglasses on cases, he’d wear noise cancelling headphones on flights, and on rare occasion, he’d even have to run to the bathroom to throw up from the pain. It was getting ridiculous. It was getting in the way of him being able to do his job to the best of his ability – there were very few things he hated more than that.

It had to stop.

He had to find a way to make them stop.

After doing a plethora of research, Spencer had a variety of scans done on his brain. It was his most valuable asset in his opinion so if something was happening to it, he needed to take care of it. He had CT scans, MRIs, magnetic resonance spectroscopy, single photon emission computerized tomography, magnetoencephalography…if it might have helped, he had it done, and finally…almost a year and a half after most of his tests, he had an answer.

And those words.

Hello, Dr. Reid? I’ve taken a look at your scans and I think I’ve come up with a treatment that can finally alleviate your pain. Call me back and I can give you a recommendation on how to proceed.

When he listened to the message, he was stunned by the words. They’d been sitting on his arm for a few years at this point, so they’d stayed hidden in the back of his mind. This was his soulmate – Dr. Maeve Donovan. He was completely flabbergasted; he’d thought it was a long shot that she’d be able to help him. She was a geneticist, so the only options she’d be able to offer were very aggressive vitamin treatments.

The second he’d heard her voice, a warmth spread over him. Her voice was soft and comforting – a lot like his own. For the first few moments of their initial phone call, he’d spaced out a bit, taking in the sweetness of her sound. He wasn’t sure in what capacity she would end up being his soulmate, but he instantly wanted to know more about her. “I think an aggressive regimen of B2 vitamins and magnesium could really help your migraines, Dr. Reid.”

“Thank you,” he stuttered. “I’ll start taking them tomorrow and see if that helps.” Her soft laugh made him smile.

After a few moments on the phone, silence hanging fairly comfortably between them, she spoke. “Umm Dr. Reid, I know this might sound weird considering we’re doing this over the phone rather than seeing each other in person, but the words on my arm…they’re yours.”

“I know,” he replied. He’d never felt these kinds of butterflies before. It didn’t matter what she looked like; she was already the most beautiful woman in the world to him. “The message you left on my voicemail is on my arm.”

That had been the start of their relationship. The whole situation was less than ideal, considering she believed she had a stalker, and in Spencer’s professional opinion she without a doubt had one, but for the first few months they avoided talk of her stalker and his past, instead choosing to learn about each other through the ramblings of the self-proclaimed introverts. They’d talked about everything from the works of Sherlock Holmes, the flaws in Einstein’s theory of Relativity, to the Penrose Triangle. He specifically remembered her telling him a cheesy joke about it, but he’d laughed. Because that’s something he would’ve said. It was when he knew she was the one himself regardless of the words on his arm. “Every Penrose triangle has its thorns.”

Eventually, after they got to know each other more, Spencer wanted more than anything to meet her in person, but she refused to leave the house. Basically she’d burned her identity off the map, worked from home for a genetics lab nearby, and was constantly afraid for her life. On multiple occasions, he’d asked if he could help her. They’d talked so much about their jobs in recent months; he could help her. He wanted to help her, and the team would have no issues helping her, especially if it meant that one of their best friends could finally meet his soulmate face-to-face.

Then she’d said those words. He’d asked her again if he could help her; she wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore.

“I don’t want him to hurt you.” The break in her voice nearly broke him too. She was so scared. But now it wasn’t for herself, but him. “If he knew about you,” she cried, “If he knew about you, and he hurt you…I don’t…”

And that was one of the last things she ever said to him. They weren’t the last, but they were the ones that were burned into his mind.

When they’d finally figured it out, that Diane was the stalker and not Bobby Putnam, it had been too late. Bobby had been shot and killed and Maeve was left alone in the warehouse with that psycho. Diane was exceptionally smart, but she didn’t get the recognition she felt she so richly deserved, so she’d developed an unhealthy obsession with obtaining everything Maeve ever had – including him. Diane wanted Maeve to “see” her, and once Spencer had walked into her life, she wanted to take him away from her too.

He’d offered Diane a deal. “Me for her.” He’d done absolutely everything in his power to convince Diane that he loved her and not Maeve – anything he could possibly think of to save the woman he loved and had so little time with. 100.5 days. That was it. He was so afraid that’s all he’d ever have, and no matter what he tried, he knew the moments were numbered. As he continued to try in vain to get Diane to let Maeve go, his mind was working overtime, memorizing the light blush of her skin, the color of eyes and the flecks in them, the soft brown hair that cascaded beautifully around her shoulders. She was everything he could’ve ever imagined and more – and then she’d said those words. The ones that told him their time was almost up.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve said, her eyes heavy with tears as she took in every curve and every line of Spencer’s face. She was at her end. She knew it and by the look in his eyes, so did he, thought he tried…he was trying so hard.

Diane’s head snapped between the two, desperate for an answer she would never have. Diane knew everything about everyone in that circle and it was killing her not to know. “Who’s Thomas Merton?” she asked frantically.

“He knows,” Maeve breathed. “He knows.”

Diane repeated herself, the tears streaming down her face as Spencer saw the situation for what it was – a twister on the war path. “Who’s Thomas Merton?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replied. Despite the gun at her head, there was a smile in her eyes. There was something Diane would never know – no matter how hard she tried.

“No.” Diane lifted the gun to the side of her head, her own flush with Maeve’s, and pulled the trigger. The two collapsed to the floor, the blood pooling around them and seeping into their clothes. In an instant, Spencer dropped to the floor, the bones in his knees vibrating with the force of his fall. And he sobbed. He sobbed until his throat was raw and his eyes were dry.

There was nothing left.

—

Life moved around him. Agents flying in and out of the warehouse and gathering evidence as Spencer remained on the floor. In his haze, a small pool of tears had puddled by his knee, soaking into the pant leg and chilling him to the bone.

Maeve’s body had been moved. Her body…like she was just a thing now. Not a person. Not the love of his life. The soulmate ordained by the universe. She was gone. He’d seen the beauty of her face for a brief 4 minutes and 13 seconds.

“Spence.” He heard someone, but he didn’t have the strength to move his head. It had to be JJ; she was the only one that called him Spence. “Spence, it’s me. JJ.” He felt a piece of fabric envelop his shoulders, but it did nothing to warm the chill inside him – it was radiating. “We’re going to take you home.”

Three months of letters. Just over 100 days of correspondence. Why was the universe so cruel? What had he done in his life to deserve so little time with the woman who’d spoken so effortlessly with him?

His head must’ve fallen into the window of the car, because his teammates attempted to use it as an opportunity to say they were sorry. “Reid,” Morgan started. “I’m so-“

“Don’t.” It was one punctuated word, but nothing more needed to be said. Morgan turned, attempting not to be hurt by Spencer’s curtness. He couldn’t even imagine what was running through his mind.

When they got to his apartment, Morgan, JJ and Blake walked him upstairs. Morgan looked around for some water to leave by his side. JJ picked up a blanket and set it over his body as he lay on the couch and stared directly into the wall, and Blake put his bag right next to the leg of the table in front of the couch.

The door clicked closed behind them without another word. Apparently, they’d gone back to the Bureau, because that’s where his bag was. As if it was a cruel joke, the bag tipped over, The Narrative of John Smith falling out from underneath the leather.

He reached over for the book, wanting to throw it across the room and hopefully collapse the universe. What had it ever done for him?

That’s when he noticed. Where before there was a grouping of 25 words, slightly raised, in what looked like black ink, there was now a blank canvas. The words he’d waited so long for were gone. “No…” he breathed, new tears springing to his eyes. How was there anything left? He picked up his knees and curled into himself, a new fountain of tears falling onto a now blank patch of skin.

The words had faded away.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks passed before he felt like he “came to” again. Apparently, he’d showered, eaten and drank enough to keep himself alive, done what necessary things needed to be done to live, but he honestly didn’t remember doing them. He felt like he was moving through sludge. 

Dilauded had been his escape early on during his time with Bureau, but he’d quit years ago and hadn’t craved since. He thought about using it when Emily had died, but he hadn’t craved it since he got sober – until now. Everything fiber in his body wanted him to contact his old dealer and see what he could do for him – give him anything to stop the overwhelming pain he felt. The only reason he didn’t do it was because Maeve wouldn’t have wanted him to, and despite having only seen her face for 4 minutes and 13 seconds, the idea of watching her face turn down in disappointment at his return to drugs kept him from picking up the phone. Even when he was using, he didn’t feel like this much of an addict.

Then he’d taken a flight to help the team on one case. He was going to go back. Of course he was. The BAU was and remained his home, but he nearly didn’t.

That morning. That morning just three weeks after the love of his life had died. Words. More words popped up on his arm. He didn’t see what they were, but he saw what looked like ink. Without a second thought, he stormed into the bathroom and grabbed a roll of gauze, angrily wrapping it around his arm so that he would never have to see them. How dare the universe tell him he had another soulmate waiting around the corner when Maeve was barely in her grave for a month.

After using nearly the entire roll, he went back to his room to get dressed, but as he pulled on the shirt, the sleeve got caught on the enormous mountain of bandage. He tugged and teared at the shirt so much, it tore, leaving him to rip the shirt off, ball it up and throw it into the corner of the room.

He collapsed back onto his bed and sobbed. After three weeks of numbness, he didn’t think he could cry anymore, but here he was, dissolved into a pool of tears.

***

Weeks went by without him talking to anyone, interjecting in cases only when asked. The long swaths of silence frightened the team. No one was used to Reid being so quiet, but they also didn’t want to disrupt his grieving process; everyone grieved in their own way and on their own time. Who were they to judge how he went about healing himself?

But it still didn’t make them worry any less.

One day as they were about to get out of work, JJ decided to approach him; she could never have expected the reaction she got. “Spence, can I talk to you for a second?” All she wanted to do was assure him that he wasn’t alone.

“Not if it’s about what I think,” he said, snapping his head up from his desk. “I don’t want to hear how everything is going to be okay. I don’t want to hear how someone else will come along. I don’t want pity from someone who gets to go home to the person they love right now.” Spencer’s eyes stung with thick tears, in sadness, guilt for snapping at JJ, jealousy that she go to go home to Will when he’d never have the ability to go home to Maeve – all of it made him want to crawl out of his skin.

More than anything, he wanted to throw a tantrum – kick, scream and cry at the universe and how unfair it was, but instead, he’d snapped at JJ, and his mouth just kept going. “You get to stare down at your arm every night and see the words he first spoke to you. I don’t. I look down and there’s nothing anymore. Because she’s dead. I just don’t want to hear any of it Jennifer.”

With practiced fluidity, used to turning away from people when he was overwhelmed, he spun on his heels, pulling on his coat and taking strides toward the elevator. He watched as they closed, separating him from all those people – the ones that had what he so desperately wanted.

As the months wore on, he never once had the desire to look at the words hidden under his bandage. Once every few days, he would take the bandage off to change it, doing everything he could to make sure he never saw those words. It had been nearly a year since Maeve had passed, but for him, there was still no one else. His showering routine had gotten to a point where he no longer looked in the mirror and had perfected the art of wrapping his arm without truly looking at it.

The snapping incident that had occurred with JJ didn’t happen again – with anyone. Basically everyone had assumed that they shouldn’t try and talk to him about romance of any kind, so with the exception of having to step on eggshells in regards to Spencer’s romantic life, his relationships with his friends went relatively back to normal.

On rare occasion, he would go out with the team, but only if they were just going out to eat. Bars weren’t happening. He’d never go out with anyone alone though, because inevitably the conversation would turn to romance and those godforsaken words. If he was honest with himself, he hated the universe for the phenomenon now.

No. Solo outings didn’t happen anymore – which is why he surprised himself when he agreed to go grab a bite to eat with Alex. He wasn’t sure what it was about Blake. Maybe it was because he knew she cared, but she wouldn’t pry.

As they sat down at a hole in the wall Indian restaurant in a booth that barely held the two of them, the two found themselves slipping to a comfortable silence. “I’m here, you know,” Alex said, still looking at her menu. That was all she said; that’s what Spencer loved about her. “You wanna split some vegetable samosas?”

“Sure,” he said without missing a beat. The sentiment hung in the air; he knew what she meant by “I’m here.” It wasn’t a cry for attention, like she felt he was ignoring her, but a subtle and soft reminder that she was there and more than willing to listen if he wanted to get something off his chest. Though they’d only known each other for about two years, Blake knew him better than most, or at least in a different way.

The waitress came over the table and introduced herself as Kala, taking their orders for drinks, appetizer and their meals and quickly departed leaving them in silence once again. “Can I ask you something?” Spencer wondered. Not his words – he still needed to steer clear of those, but hers were another story.

He watched as a smirk ticked up the corners of her mouth, but that was all she allowed her face to show. “Of course. What is it?”

For a moment, he tried to formulate what he actually wanted to say. From the way she acted with him, to the locket she played with on cases where kids were involved (specifically boys) to the one time they were rooming together on a case and he’d heard her mutter ‘it’s okay Ethan,’ he’d assumed for months that she was a mother, but she never spoke of a son, so Spencer had guessed that Ethan, if that was his name, was no longer living – yet she and her husband James remained steadfastly dedicated to each other. “Were the words James spoke to you the first ones on your arm?”

“No,” she said, her voice in a far off place in the corner of her mind. “I was with someone else before James, but he died. His name was Michael.” She seemed to remember him fondly. “I loved him with my whole heart, but one morning I woke up to see that he had passed away during the night. Aneurysm. A ticking time bomb that took him away from me at the age of 25; he was way too young.” The fond smile turned somber for a moment as she mourned the loss of someone so young – someone she loved so much. “And before you ask, it was about two weeks later that a knew set of words showed up on my arm, and for a while…I hated them. Those words. Not only were they a cheesy pickup line, but they sprouted up out of nowhere two weeks after the love of my life died. I hated them, until I met him. Once I did, they took on a whole new feeling.”

While he wanted to know what that feeling was, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront it yet, so he asked the next obvious question. “What were his words to you?”

Blake snorted and pulled up her sleeve. On her arm, no lie, were the words, “I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?”

“Noooooo,” he said, suppressing the urge to giggle uncontrollably.

Blake just shrugged. “Oh yea. Go ahead and laugh because it’s funny. But he said them so badly I found it endearing. My obvious reaction was ‘what?’ so that’s what’s written on his arm.” She went on to tell him how a few years after Michael’s death, around the anniversary actually, she found herself frequenting her local library for some solitude. Over and over again, she eyed a tall, built, slightly tanned man with a beautiful smile, but she hadn’t had the guts to go talk to him, until one day he approached her and said those words. “After I said what, James stumbled over his words so badly, I had to reassure him that he hadn’t just blown it and we went to get dinner.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that Kala came back with their appetizer. While they ate, the conversation went toward linguistics, specifically endangered languages and the work being done to preserve them. Once the meals actually came they’d talked so much that their mouths were dry and they were both beyond hungry, so nothing was said until they were at least halfway done with their meals. “Can I ask you something else?” He didn’t even look up from his plate, because although the words had slipped out of his mouth, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer.

“You know you can ask me anything,” she replied, her eyes soft as she took another bite of her food.

Spencer placed his knife and fork at the sides of his plate, swallowing hard and composing himself for her answer. “When James said those words, you said your feelings changed. How?”

“Well,” she started, picking up her fork as if she was starting to get a little anxious and needed something to do with her hands, “As I said, I hate those words. They popped up and I was pissed that the universe wanted to put someone else in my path when the love of my life had just died.” She’d lived his exact circumstances, just years earlier. “I hated those words until the first time I saw James. There was something about him – the way he looked at me, the way he smiled at me, just the small things – they were the first romantic encounter I had after Michael and it made me start to wonder if the words belonged to him. I found myself simultaneously hoping they did and hoping they didn’t, and then when he said them, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders…I don’t know how else to describe it, which as a linguist, really bugs me.”

Spencer smiled softly, wondering if he’d ever feel that way. He couldn’t imagine he would. More time had passed since Maeve’s death than they had spent together, but he still missed her every day. The sweet sound of her voice was still one of the last things he heard at night. “Look at the words when you’re ready, Spencer,” she finally said.

He wasn’t sure how she knew that he even had a second set of words, no less that he hadn’t looked at them yet, except that she was a brilliant profiler and linguist. “How will I know?”

“You just will.”


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone left eventually. He was convinced as much. Maybe it wasn’t because they’d willingly left, but the universe somehow decided that when he was born, people would come and go, and apparently the words would too, so he decided if he never knew who his second soulmate was, he’d never lose them.

Maeve had left – taken away at just over the age of 30 after the universe taunted him with her love for just over 100 days. Elle had left, unable to reconcile her desire for revenge and her role as a law enforcement agent. Emily had left, and fuck if that wasn’t too complicated a situation to delve into on his way into work. Granted she’d come back from the dead, but it wasn’t the same, because she needed to create a new life for herself. Gideon had left, with just a note saying he was sorry for how him leaving was going to affect Spencer.

No one’s life revolved around Spencer. He knew that. And that was fine. Everyone’s lives were intertwined with someone else, who was affiliated with someone else and so on and so forth, so did Spencer ever expect anyone to make a decision for themselves based on how he’d react? Of course not, but it didn’t help him from wondering whether or not anyone of his friends or loved ones who’d left realized or cared how it would affect him. Emily was the only one he knew of for sure that regretted the way everything had happened, but that was because she had been the only to ever return.

Elle and Gideon were god knows where. As he rounded the corner to pull into the Bureau parking lot, a meeting with Hotch waiting, he let his brain wander. If he had his way, they’d be back, but in lieu of them returning, he hoped for their happiness. He hoped that Gideon had found love again. After losing his college sweetheart to Frank Breitkopf, he couldn’t deal with the horrors of the world, vanishing into thin air. Spencer hoped that he’d found someone else, a light coming to his eyes that had been ripped away so violently years earlier, as he saw new words spring to life across his skin. Together, they would travel across country over and over again, taking in the beauty of the world that had been eroded away during Gideon’s 30 years with the BAU.

In Elle’s case, Spencer couldn’t even hazard a guess as to where she was. In the time he’d known her, she didn’t have those blessed or damned words (depending on who you spoke to). Maybe she had found someone since then. Maybe not. But wherever she was, he hoped she happy. In a perfect world, she’d have formed on organization for sexual assault victims, something to help the people she had so desperately wanted to help, in a way that didn’t require breaking the laws she swore to uphold.

So that was what, five, six people that had left in one way or another? Gideon, Elle, Emily, Maeve, his father, and most recently Blake. Like a mother to him, she’d left after he got shot. Again, the horrors of this job kept taking their toll on the ones he loved. Having Blake leave hurt more than he thought it would 

The friends he did have he loved more than anything else in the world. However, they definitely weren’t known for minding their own business. Actually quite the opposite, which was bothersome no matter how pure the intentions. But Blake was different. Blake always made it known that she was there for him if he wanted to talk, but never forced him too, through words or body language. She was effortless to be around, but in a familial way rather than a romantic way. He was convinced that if the universe hadn’t already showed him that it was possible for him to have a romantic soulmate, he would’ve seen Blake’s first words to him on his arm. For all he knew, they could be lying under the bandage he continued to wear – more than a year later. Although Maeve’s death was getting easier to handle day by day, he still wasn’t ready to see those words. There were too many awful possibilities that he couldn’t handle after all he’d been through.

After parking at 7:13 in the morning, he’d apparently sat in the car in deep thought for the past six minutes. His brain told him to move (he did have a meeting to go to after all). While he took the steps up slowly, wanting more time to himself and his mind to wander, he tried to decipher Hotch’s words. What did he want to talk about? Hotch had only said that he wanted to talk to Spencer before work in the morning, but it was a solo meeting.

Gently, Spencer knocked on the door, cracking a small smile as Hotch said good morning. “Come on in, Reid,” he said, sitting down at his desk and searching the younger agent’s eyes for how he was feeling this morning. “How’re you doing?”

“Sleepy,” Spencer replied with a shrug. He sipped at his coffee, which he wished he could ingest in IV form because once he was physically up he hated wasting time on actually getting up mentally. “But otherwise okay. Why did you want to talk to me this morning?”

Hotch smiled, Spencer, much like himself, was always the kind of man to cut to the chase, but for his extensive IQ, he hadn’t deduced what it was that Hotch wanted to talk to him about. “I just wanted to talk about how you’ve been feeling since Blake left.”

In a huff, Spencer got up to leave. “Sit, Reid. I’m not done.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and turned back into the seat, taking another large cup of coffee and nearly burning his throat. “Why do we need to talk about this? It sucks. End of story.”

“Not end of story. You dam up your feelings and when it gets to be too much we both know what happens.” Spencer saw the smallest of glances between Hotch and his own arm. He was referencing the dilauded he turned to, or desperately wanted turn to, during times of great stress. “Reid, you and an invaluable asset to this team, for your mind, and just the dynamic of the team. We all need you, but we need you at your best, and when you keep these emotions bottled up, you are not at your best.”

A minute or two passed by, during which time Spencer stared everywhere but where he was supposed to. “Everyone leaves Hotch. That’s my life. What can I say? My father left, then Gideon left, then Elle left, then Emily left, came back and left again, then the love of my life got shot, and now Blake is gone. What am I supposed to do with that? Am I supposed to operating at full capacity barely a month after Blake left?” When he was younger and had just joined the Bureau, Spencer wouldn’t have allowed himself to get so snappy with a superior, but aside from being his boss, Spencer also considered Hotch a friend, and right now his friend was making him angry. “Because I’m not. But I always get back to where I need to be when people leave me alone to grieve in my own way. Blake understood that.” He said that last bit under his breath, a lone tear stinging at the corner of his eye as he looked down at the floor.

Hotch understood. They all got each other to a deeper degree than most people understood their friends given what they did for a living, but Blake’s connection with Spencer went deeper still. “I know Blake leaving hurt you, but that’s all the more reason to seek someone out to confide in. Does keeping in all make you happy?”

“Of course not,” Spencer snapped, raising his voice slightly higher than he’d intended. “What would make you think that? It makes me miserable.” 

“Nothing,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Then why don’t you speak to someone?”

“Because either way I’m miserable. I keep it in, I’m miserable by myself, or I let it out and make everyone around me miserable. Why would I do that to the people I love?”

“Because we love you,” Hotch said. It was rare he said those exact words to his co-workers. He was more the type to imply it than say it, but Reid needed to realize that despite his childhood, where he was, in essence, alone, it wasn’t that way any longer. “Talk to someone. Anyone. Whether it be one of us or not.”

In his head, Spencer knew he didn’t want to be an ass, but that’s where his heart was headed, so he just shut his mouth…until he couldn’t anymore. “Do you ever take your own advice?” Hotch was the king of keeping in his emotions, or at least that’s what Spencer thought. “Do you ever talk to Beth about the cases that get under your skin?” The sentiment was filled with such vitriol, probably because Spencer assumed that Beth had been Hotch’s second soulmate.

“Not anymore,” he said, getting up and walking around to sit on top of the desk. “Beth and I broke up.”

Spencer had been looking down at the floor the entire time, but his head sprung up at the realization that Hotch’s second soulmate didn’t last. “I’m sorry,” he said. “After…” he didn’t want to say Hayley’s name. It was still a sore subject; Spencer could tell. “I was really happy that you’d found your soulmate again.”

“She wasn’t my soulmate.” Hotch watched as the surprise spread across the young man’s face. “I don’t know whose words these are.” On his arm was written ‘she must’ve been an incredible woman.’ “These weren’t the words Beth first spoke to me, but we got along really well, and since neither of us had any words on our arms, we decided to just go for it. We were both convinced, and still are, that those words can pop after you start a relationship. That it doesn’t have to happen before. It can. It can be something that the universe has ordained for you, but we both believe that it was something that individuals could change.”

“And did it?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious. He’d never expected that Beth and Hotch hadn’t been made for each other. They just fit together so perfectly.

“Well, no,” Hotch smiled. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s not true. Look, I like the idea of having someone, or multiple someones, out there in the world waiting for me, but I also like the idea of having some control over my own destiny, that those soulmates or soul companions can be of your own choosing as well as the universe’s.” Spencer had never really thought of it that way before, which was astounding considering how much time and energy he’d put into the whole concept as a child.

The earlier tension faded to the background when the conversation had changed direction. “I never really thought of it like that,” Spencer finally said.

“I think you have,” Hotch said, continuing when Spencer looked confused. “Whether you’ve actively thought about it like that, I think the reason having these people, or some of them anyway, leave, hurt so much was because you felt a deep soulmate-like connection to them. Especially Blake, Emily and Gideon.”

Spencer swallowed hard. When he’d come in the room, he’d been angry, then the mood turned to pity for the demise of Hotch’s relationship, to slightly more light-hearted, but now…now he was sad again. Spencer was pretty sure this was the opposite of what Hotch had wanted from this meeting. What Hotch had said made total sense though. That’s why he’d been hit by people leaving so much more than other people, because for Spencer, the people that came to him later in life felt like soulmates; they felt like those childhood friends and loved ones that he’d missed out on, so seeing them leave was like a dagger in the heart.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to cry, and eventually, he couldn’t stop himself, openly sobbing in Hotch’s office.

Hotch got up and closed the blinds, just in case people decided to start walking in a little bit earlier than usual, and once he returned to his desk, he grabbed Spencer by the shoulder, hoisted him upward and wrapped his arms around him. “Look, Reid. We are never telling you that you have to talk, but we are here if you want to talk. We may not have all the same experiences as you do, even though someone like myself has lost a loved one in the exact same way you did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t listen, and as your friends, that we wouldn’t want to.” Spencer hadn’t lifted his head from Hotch’s shoulder, but he nodded that he’d heard him.

After a minute or two, Spencer’s tears dried up and he lifted his head, making eye contact with Hotch and giving up; giving up trying to look okay when he wasn’t. “Now listen, I think this soulmate thing is bothering you more than you’re letting on. We’ve all noticed that you have your arm bandaged up. You have other words?”

“I saw the faint outline of ink, so yes, but I don’t want to look at them.”

Hotch put out his hand and reassured Spencer. “And you don’t have to. What I want to say is that the words don’t have to dictate your life, if you don’t want them to. If you keep that bandage on, and two years from now, you feel a spark with someone, take that bandage off and realize that the words don’t match, don’t give up your autonomy. We were born into this universe where this exists, but that doesn’t mean he have to think of it as God. Pursue love in your own way. Let it come to you. And maybe, one day, you’ll realize that you have the power to change your fate. What I’m saying is remain open.”

Spencer breathed a cleansing breath, feeling a little bit better after talking with Hotch. “I’ll try,” he said, walking toward the door. As he turned the doorknob, he stopped in his tracks. “Do you think I could come in this time next week?” He asked, realizing he sounded like he was talking to a therapist. “I have no idea what I’m going to need to say or if I’ll need to say anything, but I might feel better coming to you.”

“Same time next week,” Hotch replied with a laugh. “Bring a book if you feel like it. Just know that I’m here.”

“Thanks Hotch.”

And with that, Spencer walked out and went back to his desk, his shoulders slightly more uplifted after their talk. As Hotch sat back down at his desk, he’d hoped he’d gotten through to him. He liked the idea of a soulmate as much as the next person, but he would hate to see Reid close himself off to the world and all its possibilities just because his feelings he had didn’t align with the words painted across his skin. Whether he was romantically linked or not, he had soulmates all around him – if only he allowed them in.


	4. Chapter 4

Since he broke down in Hotch’s office, Spencer had been going to see him periodically. Sometimes he would just sit in the office and say nothing; the two of them would read before work, or more accurately, Spencer would read a book as Hotch continued on with the mountains of paperwork that needed to be done. Other times, he would enter in the morning with everything on his mind. Their talk had brought on the possibility that the words meant next to nothing and he was struggling with that thought. Either way, one thing stayed the same. Hotch would say nothing unless Spencer specifically asked, finding it more therapeutic for Spencer if he kept quiet.

Each day was work. Trying to move on when he didn’t want to, when he still missed Maeve, was difficult, but eventually, as Hotch had said, if he wanted to be happy, he would have to find a way to make peace with the fact that Maeve was gone; she would want him to be happy. Nearly three years after she’d been murdered, he had good days and bad days. Now, most were good. He’d think of Maeve and focus on the sound of her soft voice when they spoke on the phone, or the way she cracked the corniest jokes with such confidence, or even the way her hair had cascaded over her shoulders during those few minutes he’d been able to see her in person, but occasionally the bad days still reared their ugly heads.

Today was one of those days, and he didn’t feel like talking to Hotch or JJ or Morgan. What he wanted was to talk to his mother. Though she’d recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and was in and out of lucidity, he felt as though she was the only one that could make him feel better. The soothing sound of her voice telling him the story of the word on her arm was what he needed right now, so he called Hotch up to tell him he wouldn’t be at work for the next few days – that he needed to see his mother, not for her sake, but his. Though he needed to fly to Houston to see her, it was worth it.

“My baby,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck after opening the door. Silently, he thanked the Gods that she was lucid. “Not feeling well today?” 

Spencer shook his head, his eyes downcast as he walked into her room in the facility she’d been staying in. “I’m just really confused, Mom.” As he walked into the room, his mother sat down on her bed and patted the comforter beside her.

“About what?”

That was the question wasn’t it? Was he even confused? Or was it just that he didn’t know how to deal with all of the thoughts that were cascading through his brain? Even the thought that he couldn’t control his mind left him uneasy. “Everything,” he said with uncertainty. “I want to move on from Maeve, but I don’t know how. I want to look at the new words on my arm and yet I also don’t. I want to believe that the universe has someone out there waiting for me, but like my boss, Hotch said I also want some autonomy over my own love life…I just don’t know anymore…” When he looked up, expecting an answer from his mother, she just squeezed his hand tighter. She could tell he wasn’t finished with his thought even though he thought he was. “The words have been a constant in my life, in everyone’s lives, since the dawn of time…apparently. Everyone I know that is happy has put their faith in the words, and everyone that is unhappy hasn’t.” As he flopped down onto the bed, trailing off, Diana took that as her chance to speak.

“True,” she said, running her hands through his hair. “You need a hairbrush.”

“Is that really what you were going to say?” He closed his eyes and giggled to himself.

“No,” she laughed. “But I can’t help but think you need to brush your hair more often. What I was going to say about the people you know who are happy and who aren’t happy is that that’s only because you live in this small bubble. Everyone does,” she continued quickly. “We all exist in our own little world, but that doesn’t mean that another possibility doesn’t exist outside of it. I was happy with my word and my companion,” she spoke, smiling softly at her son, “because after divorcing your father I didn’t want anyone else in that way. I am of the firm belief that we manifest the words due to our own state of mind. All I wanted was a beautiful life with you, so the word remained. What I mean to say is that I think your boss is right. The words exist, but you are in control of them.” She placed her hand on his arm – the arm that was bandaged, hiding his eyes from what might be the words of his new soulmate. “I think you should look at them. The longer you wait, the more weighty they become.”

“But what if I’ve already met this person, and I felt nothing and yet their words are on my arm?” Spencer asked, petrified of the possibility. Despite the fact that both Hotch and his mother felt there was some autonomy in the process, Spencer had grown up believing otherwise, so attempting to rewire his brain wasn’t going to happen quickly. It was going to take him a very long time. “Mom, I’m scared of being alone because these words have too much power over me.”

“Do you think I’m alone?” she asked, looking fondly at the word upon her skin.

Spencer shook his head as he sat up. “Of course not. You have me.”

“Then you are never alone. Soulmate or not, you have people out there that would give the world for you. You put too much weight on these words Spencer.” Her voice turned from reassuring to saddened. The idea that her son felt at all unloved because of these words ripped her apart. How could someone not love her son? He was the light of her life and the reason she kept on going. If only he could see how special he was, he would find someone to love and who would love him in return.

She was right of course, but his brain was still wired to believe in the same things he did when he was younger. “It’ll take time, Spencer,” she said softly. “But I think that your time might be better served knowing exactly what’s painted on your arm. That way, if it’s not what you expect, you can make peace with that and take control.”

For a few moments, mother and son sat in silence. She was right, but as of yet, he couldn’t peel the bandage away, so he slowly pulled his sleeve down over it. Another time, he promised himself. “Mom, will you tell me the story of my word again?” he asked, seeking for an answer in here eyes as he felt a buzzing in his pocket – probably Hotch asking how he was.

“Do I know you?” His mother asked as his eyes met hers once more.

Spencer’s heart dropped. She’d forgotten before, but never him. “It’s me, Mom,” he whispered, his lip quivering. Maybe seeing her had been a mistake. Now not only did he feel helpless in the context of his own life, but in regards to his mother as well. “Your son, Spencer.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, looking away from him and staring off into the distance for a minute or so. “When did you get here?”

“About 30 minutes ago, Mom.” With everything else going on, he needed her now more than ever. There had to be something he could do to bring her back, to show her that he was worthy of the word on her arm. As much as he didn’t want to, he still believed in those words, and the one on his mother’s arm spoke to him more than whatever was waiting under his bandage. His own words be damned – his mother needed him now.


	5. Chapter 5

As the months wore on, Spencer’s attention drew away from his own troubles (and of course the ever-present words) and toward his mother. All the love in the world couldn’t keep her mind from slipping away slowly – and it broke his heart. It weighed him down more than any words ever could, so he did what any loving son would. 

Day in and day out, Spencer searched high and low for something that would help his mother. There was no cure for Alzheimer’s – at least not yet, but there were remedies and treatments that staved off the worst of it for a period of time, and besides her own son, it was her mind that Diana Reid prided herself on. Even if she couldn’t remember him, he wanted her to have some control over her own mind.

Scouting for helpful remedies was much more difficult than he could’ve possibly imagined, but eventually he found a place in Houston, Texas that was conducting a trial. If he could get her in, and she wasn’t on the placebo end of things, she might have a change for a more lucid, if not longer life, and at this point, that’s all either of them could hope for.

Hotch had been very accommodating when it came to giving him time off, but then like so many before him, he had to leave as well. Although it pained him to see another mentor go, this one he had understood more than most. With Scratch after Hotch, he could no longer risk the possibility that Scratch wouldn’t come after Jack, and with Haley already lost to one madman with a desire for driving Aaron Hotchner over the brink, Jack’s life stood above all else, so they went into witness protection in the hopes that Jack would live a long and fulfilling life. That left someone else from the team to step into the role of Unit Chief, and he couldn’t have picked anyone better than Emily. With her experience at Interpol and her experience with and love for the team, she was a perfect fit.

She excelled of course, and she also gave him all the time he needed to find accommodations for his mother. When he took off, he knew they were bringing in another agent, someone to fill the vacancy, but of course, not the shoes, of one of his best friends, Derek Morgan, but he hadn’t met the man yet, so today would be that day.

Finally back from setting his mother up in Houston, he was back at work. There were donuts on the conference room table when he walked in, and although life hadn’t been kind to him lately, he felt like things might’ve finally been on the upswing. His mother was in a great facility, and he was eating his favorite donut. What could possibly have been better? He nearly got lost in thought while he was waiting for the rest of the team to come in, but he was interrupted by deft footfalls.

When he turned around, he saw a man he presumed to be Luke Alvez, the new team member he hadn’t met yet. “No handshakes, right?” He asked, his smile wide and teeth whiter than snow. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“As does yours,” he said with a smile. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Luke Alvez.”

Although he’d always considered himself attracted to both men and women, attracted to personality and intelligence above all else, he’d never found himself immediately attracted to a man. But as Luke stood in front of him, there was something about Luke that put him at ease. Before his mind could wander, the rest of the team came in and got them started on their case of the week, or weeks as sometimes the case had been.

—

Luke fit in very well with the team. He had a great relationship with Garcia, even though she would deny it until the cows came home. They’d bicker like brother and sister. Emily respected. He was great with Henry and Michael when he met them, so JJ loved him. Rossi and Stephen appreciated his expertise as well. After all, Rossi was the one who had convinced him to join the team in an official capacity. There was nothing about Luke Alvez that didn’t fit in well with the dynamic they already had going.

Spencer couldn’t tell if Emily had noticed the spark in his eyes when he first met Luke, or if it had just been convenient, but he and Luke had been paired off a number of times since he’d joined the team, and every time, he found himself rambling on and on about cases, TV shows, and really anywhere that his train of thought stopped, but the difference with Luke was that he always seemed to be listening – truly listening.

Any one could see that Spencer Reid loved his teammates and that his teammates loved him. They would bleed and had bled for each other, but not everyone truly understood or cared to understand Spencer’s ramblings, but Luke was different. Not only did he listen; he seemed truly interested in what he had to say. After a while, their car rides weren’t silent, like so many before them. Instead, on their way to witnesses’ houses and police departments, Luke would take the wheel and Spencer would sit in the passenger seat, talking in perpetuity about whether or not Steven Moffat would ever give The Doctor a real name (Spencer pondered this but Luke had never seen the show), whether Lord Petyr Baelish was a Faceless Man or not (something both firmly believed) or whether Ferris Bueller was just a figment of his friend Cameron’s imagination. They’d debate crazy fan theories about their favorite TV shows, both loved Game of Thrones, while Luke watched a show called Boardwalk Empire and Spencer, of course, watched Doctor Who.

Luke promised to introduce Spencer to Boardwalk Empire one day and in turn, he’d watch Doctor Who with Spencer, something he couldn’t even fathom. The only person who watched the time-traveling doctor with him was Garcia. Maybe he could get Luke and Garcia to come over and watch…or maybe not because they’d probably bicker like little kids.

Either way, it felt nice to have someone around that truly seemed interested in what he had to say, whether it was about work, or whether it was just about something that made him happy. Whenever Luke would look at him, his eyes wide with interest at his statistic of the hour, Spencer would feel little butterflies fluttering around his stomach. On top of him being kind and funny, Spencer couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, and on more than one occasion, he’d found himself wondering what it would be like to fall asleep on his shoulder, comforted knowing that he was loved unconditionally. It was still in the back of his mind – that idea of long-lasting love, but it hadn’t fought to the front until he met Luke. He wondered if Luke felt the same or if it was one-sided.

Still – he didn’t really have time for that now.

For now, his mother needed him, and she’d taken a turn for the worse, so every few months he’d travel down to Mexico to procure the supplement that seemed to be helping his mother. It wasn’t illegal in the United States – not strictly, but it wasn’t exactly legal either, so he kept it under the radar. He knew he could lose his job for what he was doing, but there was nothing he wouldn’t risk for his mother, so long as she was alive.

Each time he went, he was careful. He talked to as few people as he could while still obtaining what he needed, but somewhere along the line, he took a wrong step and landed in Mexican jail cell accused of murder, which he knew he didn’t commit, but he also couldn’t remember a damn thing about the previous twelve hours.

Now, here he was, half-drugged on what, he wasn’t sure, with no remembrance of what happened the day before, accused of murder, and the only that mattered to him was getting back to his mother and the BAU – his home.

When, not if, he got out of this mess, he promised himself he’d do the one thing he’d always been so afraid of – he’d take a chance on love. Luke didn’t know how he felt, but Spencer had to know.

—

Shortly after being released from the prison in Mexico, he was granted trial in the United States and was set for arraignment. He couldn’t say he wasn’t worried, because of course he was, any sane man would be, but he knew he had his family at his back. JJ was helping him with his mother while he sorted this whole thing out, and Rossi had already said that he’d post bail whether it was $100,000 or Rossi had to sell his mansion to do it; he’d do it happily.

That’s why his heart nearly exploded as the gavel hit the table and he was denied bail. Turning back toward his friends had been the worst decision he’d made thus far. Seeing their helpless faces and knowing there was a decent chance he wouldn’t make it out of prison alive made him nearly collapse. The only things keeping him upright were the guards on either side of him.

On his way to the prison, he went numb. How could anyone believe they’d end up in a place like this? Especially someone like him. For more than a decade, he’d spent his days putting people behind bars, and now he was going there himself.

“You’re going to need to take that off,” the guard said, bringing out of his self-defeating thoughts and toward the bandage he’d had on for so many years.

Spencer had to ask for clarification. “What? I can’t.”

“Unless there is a medical reason for it to be there, which according to the in-house doctor, there isn’t, then it needs to come off.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth going dry at the prospect of taking the bandage off. When he did, he’d see the words – the ones that he’d been avoiding for years. As he unwrapped the bandage, he imagined what they might say. He both hoped and dreaded that they’d be the words he remembered.

And there they were.

~No handshakes, right? Your reputation precedes you.~

Luke.


	6. Chapter 6

Before the bandage even came off, he knew he wanted to talk to Luke, but he hadn’t, because he’d been too scared of taking off that bandage and not seeing Luke’s words. And now here he was, sitting in a cell, with only one comrade to show for his first two weeks here, having not confessed to Luke, and now he might never have the chance. 

After two weeks, Shaw had already saved him from one near shanking. As an FBI agent who’d admitted to killing a CI, Calvin Shaw had the respect of the other inmates, and for some reason, he’d taken it on himself to take Spencer under his wing and train him in the ways of living behind prison bars – something Spencer never thought would actually come to pass in his life.

Even though for the time being Spencer trusted Shaw, he still couldn’t risk telling him anything about himself, especially regarding his feelings for Luke. If he got found out as being gay or bisexual, he would absolutely be taken advantage of in the worst way, and that was something he already feared.

Since he’d been remanded to state custody, Garcia, Emily and Rossi had already been to see him. JJ would be next, and then Luke. The thing was, he had no idea what to say to Luke when he did come. How was he supposed to make small talk when the words on his arm reflected how he’d felt about Luke before he even knew they were there?

Of course, telling Luke about everything was a possibility, but the more he thought about it, the less it seemed fair – to both of them. The fact was, there was a distinct possibility that Spencer wouldn’t live to experience those things he hadn’t yet, so to give himself that hope, felt to cruel. He had to play his life and his feelings day by day and hope he made it to fight another day. In Luke’s case, it was even worse. Either Luke wouldn’t feel the same way, and then he’d lose a friend, or Luke would feel the same, and then Luke would have to worry about him day in and day out wondering whether or not he would get out alive. Either way, neither of them could win until he got out.

Each and every day that went by felt like he was walking through molasses. As he walked through the halls toward the laundry room, where Shaw had thankfully procured him a job to help the days go by more quickly, he’d search the eyes of his fellow inmates and shirk away in fear and uncertainty. Prisoners always, at least almost always said that they were innocent; hell, Spencer said it himself, but while Spencer knew deep down that he didn’t murder Nadie Ramos, he could see in the other inmates that they were definitely guilty of their supposed crimes, and they took pride in that fact. Put that on top of the fact that Spencer was never a fighter, not even in his job at the Bureau, and he was prime pickings for a beating. There was never a day or even an hour that went by that Spencer felt safe, especially if Shaw was nowhere in sight. But even with Shaw around, he knew to feel wary of him. It almost felt like he was grooming him because he knew that he would need him for something illegal down the road.

Every step was heavy. Every breath he took was on borrowed time. And every second that passed saw his sanity morphing into something else between paranoia and insanity.

There were people that lived their entire lives behind bars. Spencer truly had no idea how that was possible, because at the rate he was going, he wasn’t going to last a year.

—

“Weren’t you supposed to go in to see the kid today?” Rossi asked as he passed Luke’s desk, noticing the agent’s drawn face and shadowed eyes, portraying confidence and joy while hiding something darker and much deeper.

Luke shook his head, only just realizing that someone passed his desk and possibly asked him a question. “I was. I-I couldn’t go.” How was he supposed to go, knowing what he knew? “I just have to do what I can from out here. Actually, I am going today, but to see another inmate.”

A veteran profiler like Rossi knew immediately that something was wrong, so he sat down across from Luke and asked. “What’s wrong?” Luke’s eyes darted away from him, but they couldn’t hide from each other; they spent too much time together to be able to hide any feeling, good or bad, very well. “It makes sense for us to be messed up by Reid going to prison. We’ve known him for years, but you seem to be taking it worse than any of us. Now either I’m wrong in that assumption, or…”

Luke slowly rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and stretched out his arm for Rossi to see. “As does yours,” Rossi smiled. “Let me guess. Those were the first words Reid said to you.”

“Yea,” Luke said softly as he grazed his arm. “I knew it the moment the words came out of his mouth, but I also saw the fact that he had his words covered and I asked JJ why. When she told me, I decided not to press and see if he might’ve felt the same way without knowing about the words, and then…this, so apparently my soulmate is in prison and getting beaten up constantly, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Rossi couldn’t imagine being in that position. When Caroline, his first wife, had spoken her first words to him, his heart had skipped a beat. If she had been separated from him by prison walls, he would’ve fought the world to get to her; he couldn’t imagine how Luke felt knowing the man he loved was waking up in prison every day. “So who are you going to see today if not Reid?”

Luke was grateful that Rossi didn’t ask him why he wasn’t going to see Reid. “Calvin Shaw. He took Spencer under his wing and saved his ass a couple times, but I had Garcia look into him and I don’t trust him, so I’m going to go in and tell him what I know, and let him know that he needs to keep Spencer safe or there’s going to be hell to pay.”

It’s probably not something he should’ve admitted to a superior, but it had all just come sliding out. Rossi’s smirk put Luke at ease though. “Good. Tell him David Rossi has an eye on him too.”

Luke was thankful to have the heft of Rossi’s name behind him too. “I will,” Luke said, gathering his hands together and resting his head on them. “I’m gonna head on over there now.”

“Alvez?” Rossi asked as Luke walked toward the door. He turned around knowing what Rossi was probably going to say. Instead of it being annoying though, he found it comforting. “We are going to get him out of there. And then you can tell him exactly how you feel.”

“I hope so.”

—

Spencer noticed there was something different about Shaw these past couple of weeks. After his near shanking, he’d gotten even more protective, finding him a cell near to his, and sticking his neck out for him in common areas on more than one occasion. He had no idea why. And though Spencer had learned not to ask too many questions that might get him into trouble, he couldn’t help but wonder why Shaw had taken such a special interest in him. “No reason,” Shaw had replied. “Just one Fed to another.”

There was something about the way his lips moved but his eyes didn’t match that made Spencer think he was lying. If he had to hazard a guess, someone had threatened him in order to keep him safe, and if that was the case, then Shaw had something to hide, which didn’t bode well for him.

That’s when it started to happen. Drugs.

There were drugs being run through the prison, and Spencer was positive that Shaw was at the head of it all. Just because he was a former federal agent didn’t mean he held the same values. After so many years inside, a man could easily change. One of the other inmates, a big man by the name of Charlie Roder told her that he was to move something for him from one room to another. In public, Spencer stood his ground. He’d gone to Mexico to get a not-legal-but-also-not-illegal drug for his mother, but he was not about to push hard drugs. Charlie questioned him a second time, asking if he would do what he was told, but when Spencer said no, Charlie told him he’d regret it soon enough.

Soon enough came very soon – that night actually.

Only two things kept him going as three different inmates, including Charlie, pounded hardened fists into his stomach, chest and arms – his mother and Luke. His mother needed him. Whether she was alive for another 20 years or another 20 months, it didn’t matter; he needed to be there for her. And Luke…from what his friends had told him about Luke not visiting and the excuses he’d used, Spencer had started to believe that Luke ‘s words also reflected their connection, and coming in to see him was too difficult. If Luke couldn’t come in, then he needed to get out, and in order to do that, he had to survive the assault on his body and morals. Every hit sent a picture of his mother or Luke shooting across his mind. “You’re going to do what you’re told,” Charlie grunted as his fist connected with Spencer’s jaw. “Do what you’re told and this won’t happen again.”

When they left him bloodied and beaten on the floor, his head landed on his arm – Luke’s words staring back at him. He had to get out. Everything he’d felt about these words and soulmates and autonomy over his own love life had come to this. Luke had sparked something in him before he even knew the words were there. He had to get back to him and have a chance at love – after all he’d been through, he deserved that much. Keep your head down. That’s what Emily had said to him. If that meant moving the drugs, or possibly rendering them damaged with anyone noticing, then that’s what he’d do. It was either that or he’d never get home – his mother would torture herself into believing that him being in prison was her fault, and he would never be able to tell Luke what their conversations and his shining smile had done for him. They’d brought him out of a darkness he thought he’d never leave and now the light was in reach. He was at the bottom of a hole, and he needed to fight his way out, but the light was there, and he had to reach for it.


	7. Chapter 7

It was over. 

It was finally over.

He couldn’t quite believe it.

Though it had only been three months, it had been the longest three months he’d ever experienced.

The hole he had been digging himself out from was now underneath him. His mother was home. Scratch was gone forever. He’d been cleared of all charges. And now he could start to heal. Was it possible that for the first time in years things were finally on the upswing?

It had been a week since he’d brought his mother home and found a new program for her – or rather, he’d found someone that could be there when he couldn’t be. His team. After all he’d been through, they decided to take a pay cut. One member of the team would always be with Diana, and whoever happened to be with her would be on call to lend expertise in the case of an emergency. In her lucid moments, Diana had agreed to it. Originally, Spencer said he was going to take a sabbatical so he could be home with her, but she insisted he still work, not wanting to “be a burden.” He told her that’s the last thing she was to him, but she insisted anyway. And then the team had made the suggestion.

Before prison, he’d never been one to show his emotions outright. People, especially his close friends, knew who he was feeling, but he didn’t let it all hang out, but when they suggested taking turns to help care for Diana, he’d immediately burst into sobs and cried on Emily’s shoulder, as the team gathered him in for a hug. They were a family – and they were truly the greatest family anyone could ask for.

There was only one other thing that was left to be settled. Luke.

Just an hour or so ago, he’d texted Spencer to ask if he could come over. He said he had something he needed to get off his chest.

Honestly, Spencer never thought he’d have the opportunity to say all he wanted to say, so now that Luke was on his way, he felt his stomach lurching into his throat. He was pacing his apartment like one of those carnival machines, turning around and retreating to where he came from the second he hit the wall until 20 minutes had passed and Luke was knocking at the door.

When Spencer let him in, neither said anything, both shuffling awkwardly and looking at the floor. Spencer had thought about this for so long – even before he went to prison, and now he finally had the chance to say it. He wasn’t about to wait any longer. “Okay, I’m going to go first because I honestly thought I was going to die in prison before I got the chance to say anything,” he said quickly, fiddling his thumbs together at the speed of light as he thought of what to say next. “I’m assuming someone, probably JJ, told you why I had the words on my arm covered.”

Luke nodded, a smile ticking up at the corner of her mouth.

“After Maeve died, I never thought I’d see words again, considering I’d waited so long for those to begin with, and then just three weeks after Maeve died, other words appeared and I was mad. I hated the universe for throwing someone into my path when the woman I loved was barely in the ground a month, so I covered them up and ignored them for four years. I debated whether having them meant anything at all, whether or not I had any autonomy when it came to my own love life, and I struggled – a lot. Then you came along.” He looked up and met Luke’s gaze, slightly glazed over with slick tears that he met with his own. “I didn’t know you were it when we met, at least I didn’t know that the words I had on my arm were yours, but I know what I felt, and there was a comfort I had when I first met you that I’ve only felt with one other person. You listen to my rambling, and not only that, you actually seem interested. We can talk about anything, and the conversation isn’t even just me talking, and you listening. It’s…effortless. And then I had to take the bandage off in prison and I saw that what I felt was reflected in these fucking words that have given me so much grief over the years, and I finally feel right…Luke, I don’t know where the hell this is going to go, if it goes anywhere, but-“

He was rambling and he knew it, but he was still caught off guard when Luke crossed the floor between them and grabbed his face in his hands before taking Spencer’s mouth in a heated kiss. Everything that Spencer had felt in the past few months came out in that kiss, and then Luke pulled away. “I was so afraid you weren’t going to come out of there. I knew the words were yours the moment we met, and I definitely made some threats at the prison to get you home.”

“You threatened Shaw?”

Luke smiled. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Recovering from this whole experience was going to be long and arduous. It would probably take years, and he’d take two steps forward and five steps back if he had to guess, but if Luke was going to be there through it all, he felt like he could do it. As Luke began to ramble, Spencer found himself overcome with emotion, tears falling down his cheeks as he pulled Luke in for another kiss, his lips running over the stubble of Luke’s chin before he pressed his lips to Luke’s. “I never thought I’d be here.”

“Me either,” Luke said, smiling into Spencer’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his waist. “But we’re here now. I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Nearly a year had passed and Spencer still had his bad days –like today, those days where he would wake up in a cold sweat imagining the beatings he’d endured or his mother being killed in front of his eyes, and he would scream and flail, only calming down when Luke put his arms around him. The difference was that Luke was there now. No matter what time of night he woke up screaming, Luke was there to comfort him, reading him his favorite books and playing with his hair as he fell back asleep. “You ready to go?” he asked 

After getting ready that morning, both got dressed to leave. Living together had been the next logical step, and it felt perfectly right. Today was a packed day. The team was going to be celebrating Garcia’s birthday, as well as the anniversary and Spencer and Luke finally realizing that the universe had made them for each other. First things first though, Spencer had therapy.

Waking up screaming day after day wasn’t healthy, and although Spencer knew as much, it had taken Luke suggesting therapy for Spencer to finally take the plunge and do it. “You have to take care of yourself,” Luke had said. “After everything you’ve been though and all the people you’ve helped to take care of, it’s time you allow us to help you and for you to allow time for yourself. Remember the whole you said you climbed out of to get here?”

Spencer had nodded, leaning into Luke’s chest as his boyfriend twirled his light brown locks between his fingers. “Well, you have to take the time to take another few steps away from that hole so you never fall into it again.”

Luke was right of course. The hole was behind him now; he had climbed back into the light and had been greeted by its warmth. And with Luke by his side, he was never returning to the darkness – or at the very least, he was never returning to the darkness alone.

One soulmate was gone, but whether her words remained or not, Maeve would always have a place in his heart; right next to the man he loved now. Though Luke and Maeve never got the chance to meet, they were connected through their relationships with him, making him stronger with each passing day.


End file.
